


pringles (say no to this)

by yonderdarling



Series: Doctor/Missy Oneshots [4]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005), Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alcohol, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Crossover, F/M, why do i always write children's characters as using alcohol to cope with their problems
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-12
Updated: 2016-02-12
Packaged: 2018-05-19 22:23:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5982745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yonderdarling/pseuds/yonderdarling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alexander Hamilton is having an affair. The Doctor's been shagging a mass-murdering megalomaniac for centuries. They're surprisingly similar problems.</p>
            </blockquote>





	pringles (say no to this)

**Author's Note:**

> bashed out over three nights at 11pm with no attempt to be historically accurate. enjoy!

He hadn't slept in a week, and the beer wasn't helping. The off-key piano being bashed off in the corner drilled straight to the centre of his headache. The bar bustled around him, the whirl of people ignoring him. He was enjoying feeling invisible in the middle of the crowd. Still. Alexander looked at the latest letter from Reynolds, folded the paper and tucked it back into his coat pocket. He took another sip of the beer. He grimaced, sipped again. No, it really was that terrible.

He took another drink. It was that kind of place. It was that kind of day. At least he was out of the sun, the drinking house hot and crowded. As if they sensed his mood, the patrons seemed to be avoiding this part of the bar, apart from a man dressed in black who had fallen asleep on the counter. Alexander stared at the barrels behind the bar, trying not to think of the letter in his pocket, Eliza, Maria, Reynolds, Eliza-

A bowl of disc-shaped salted…things…was pushed in front him. Alexander found himself crunching on one without fully realising what he was doing. Underneath the delicious salt crust, it tasted almost like potato. He took another, chewed thoughtfully. And another-

"I was offering them to you, I wasn't giving away the whole tube," said a gruff voice.

"My apologies," said Alexander, sliding the bowl back and noting for the first time it was strangely lightweight, white and glossy.

He paused, tapped a fingernail against the material, then his knuckle. Amazing.

"Pass the Pringles," said the voice again.

As he slid the bowl back along the bar, Alexander looked at the speaker. It was the old man he'd assumed was asleep. He was long and lanky, with curly grey hair, all in black with heavy boots. Any other clues as to his identity were obscured, as the man was resting his head on the bar, his face pressed into his folded arms. Alexander bumped the bowl into the man's arm, took another salty disc and chewed thoughtfully, still staring at the strange bowl. It was like fine china but felt more durable.

"I'll have another, Frank," said the man, rapping his knuckles on the bartop.

"My name's Paul," said Paul, drawing the man another pint.

He placed it in front of the man, raised his eyebrows at Alexander.

"I'm satisfied, my friend," Alexander said, raising his glass.

Paul wandered off down the other end of the room, collecting empty steins and wiping down tables with a rag. Alexander stared into his beer, which meant he could see the bottom of his glass, and instantly regretted his decision.

"You hail from Scotland?" he asked the froth on top. "Glasgow?"

"Close enough," said the man. "You're from the Caribbean."

"I - " said Alexander, then took another drink. "You've obviously picked who I am, then. Wondering what brings me to this part of town?"

"Not particularly," said the man, sitting up with a groan. He picked up his glass, took a long gulp. His face was lined, and he had rather bulbous eyes. "What year is it?" He checked a strange, small watch strapped to his wrist. "Ah. Women trouble. Or man trouble." he checked his watch again. "…no. Woman. The one with the face."

He drank his beer with little pleasure. Alexander drank his beer, feeling the stiffness of the letter in his pocket again. The paper crackled. He remembered Reynold's untidy scrawl across the parchment, the black ink almost mocking him-

"Do you have a name?" Alexander asked finally.

"They call me the Doctor."

"Who does?"

"My friends, my wife, my acquaintances. Partners in crime. What do they call you?"

"You know who I am," said Alexander.

"Yes, but do you have a preferred alias, if you're trying to lie low. A nom de plume. Penname. A suitable alias."

"Please, sir. Alexander will do, if you have already recognised me as such."

"Hm."

The Doctor pushed the bowl back towards Alexander. He took a few of the salty discs out, passed the bowl back. Alexander chewed. The Doctor chewed. The bar buzzed around them and Alexander loosened his collar; it was far too close in there.

"You're quite far from Glasgow," Alexander finally said.

"I haven't been there. Glasgow. For a while."

"May I ask why?"

"I tend to avoid it. Troubles with - some local leaders," said the Doctor. "I'm in the same boat as you. Well, not really. _She's_ not married."

Alexander's blood ran cold. "I don't know what you're-"

"Oh calm down," scoffed the Doctor. "I'm not going to tell anyone. Humans on the majority don't get the hang of polygamy for ages. It'd play havoc with the nature of reality too."

"Oh, and you have, sir?" Alexander thought briefly of a letter from Angelica that Eliza, giggling so hard her cheeks had gone pink, had shown him years before. "Gotten the hang of polygamy?"

The Doctor pursed his lips. "I'm probably not the best example to use."

"Who told you?" Alexander asked.

"You know, when someone accuses you of having an affair, basically admitting to it in the middle of a public bar probably isn't the best course of action."

Alexander thought past the beer, and the headache. "…If I was, who told you?"

"Close enough," said the Doctor. "I. Let's just say, I know Reynolds. I don't approve. That's not going to stop you. I'm not going to tell anyone."

"I tried to say no," said Alexander, then caught the Doctor's look. "I _did_."

"Right," said the Doctor.

"I tried _really hard._ "

"I bet that wasn't the only hard bit." The Doctor shook himself. "River's a terrible influence on me sometimes."

"What's your story then?"

"It's a long one."

Alexander took a look at his own watch. "Apparently I have time. Though I take it you're married, sir."

"Alexander Hamilton has time for me. Well then," said the Doctor. He took a deep breath, then another drink. "I'm married. To a wife. I've got - one of those, right now. She's - the other - being. She's. A. Long time acquaintance."

Alexander thought of the rumours around Jefferson and one of his plantation slaves. But slavery had been abolished in Scotland - one of the few things the British and their King had gotten right. "Is it lawful for her?"

"It's - well, technically. She's a widow." Close enough. "She's free. We've known each other for centuries."

Alexander nodded approvingly, in a morally-wrong kind of way. "It can feel like that."

"She's also a mass-murdering megalomaniac who's enslaved the world several times in the future. Actually, it's not really a long story, that's sort of the rough outline."

"That's not a metaphor, is it?"

The Doctor took a long drink. Then he chewed one of the potato discs.

"It's not a metaphor," said Alexander. "Well. I shall take it as an analogy."

"You'd do well to do that. She tends to stay away from America. I don't want to give her ideas."

"You still see her?" Alexander asked. "After all these years."

"All those years," the Doctor said heavily. "It's been a long time."

Alexander stared at the wall of the bar, imagining another month, another year, another decade of deceits, juggling receipts, lying to Eliza, lying to himself. "I mean, every time. I tell myself it's the last time. And I just find myself _back there_. With her."

"Asking yourself, _what am I doing?_ " The Doctor sighed heavily. "Usually while in the process of, you know, doing it."

Alexander nodded, feeling he had the general shape of it. The Doctor nodded. They both took long drinks. The Doctor rapped on the tabletop; Paul returned and filled their glasses. Alexander took another potato disc. They were strangely addictive.

"Once you pop, you just can't stop," muttered the Doctor. "Like my mind is saying go, and my body's saying - "

"I know," said Alexander.

Both men stared at the wall of the bar.

"What should we do, Frank?" the Doctor asked.

"My name's Paul, you British bastard," said Paul, walking off to deal with some other customers.

"I can stop any time I want. It's all under control," said Alexander. "I can just say no. But then her body's on mine and I just say. Well, I don't say no."

"I understand, believe me," said the Doctor. "I used to say that to myself."

"How long has it been for you?"

The Doctor looked at his wrist again. "Yours has been going for about eighteen months."

"That wasn't my question," said Alexander.

"Bit longer," said the Doctor. "Little bit longer than yours. Give or take. It got a bit screwy there in the middle."

Alexander put another potato disc in his mouth. Crunched it between his teeth. They really were quite good.

"You should probably just say no."

"It's been so long, I honestly don't know how we could stop. You should stop," said the Doctor, and sighed. "It's so easy to tell that to someone, isn't it," said the Doctor. "Giving advice is so much easier than following it. And then when you do try to leave-

"Please don't go, sir."

"Sir's not the word mine uses. But I see your point."

"I could just say no," said Alexander. "Though I don't see why your disapproval should change my mind, when I can't even get myself to stop."

The Doctor looked into his beer for a good minute. "If I disapproved, I'd be one of the biggest hypocrites in the known universe."

"True," said Alexander.

"Nobody needs to know," the Doctor said, and they both drank.


End file.
